


Camp Sick Party

by Sonamae



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Amica's, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Medical Procedures, Pretty much cute babies, Sick Fic, Suggestion Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-03-26 00:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3829936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonamae/pseuds/Sonamae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus is sick and unknowingly spread it to Drift, now the two of them are ill and uncomfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a suggestion fic where I take the ideas you leave me with and [ if I find them interesting enough ] work them into the story. Feel free to go as crazy or as silly as you like, but know I may not get to your idea. I will read all of them though, so fear not.

“You caught that data virus that’s been going around didn’t you?” Ratchet took one look at Rodimus sitting on the med berth and knew this was going to be a _long_ orn. “What did I tell you? What did I tell _all_ of you? _Stop_ sharing files for at least ten orns. You’ve taken a break from _fragging_ longer than that.” He sighed and sprayed his hands with a sterile solution.

“It’s not _that_ bad.” Rodimus’ vocalizer sounded raw, almost as if it needed to be replaced. His armor was shedding in certain sections around his neck and hips, and the glow of his optics was so dull that Ratchet was worried if the Captain could even see.

“Uh huh, open it.” He picked up a small metal rod between his fingers and motioned toward Rodimus’ mouth. Rodimus pouted and reluctantly did as he was told. After clicking on a pen light in his finger, Ratchet peered inside and winced. Every single cable in the bots throat was red with overheat. Not to mention the swollen jaw joints and… were those sensitivity nodes swollen?

“Good Primus almighty, who all have you been sharing files with?” Ratchet un-clicked the pen and pulled the rod out of Rodimus’ mouth. “And on a scale of one to ten, how badly does your throat hurt?” he picked up a datapad and began tapping at the screen.

“Uh… Ultra Magnus and Drift… mostly Drift. We send each other memos and jokes and… _stuff_.” Rodimus’ reached up and rubbed the outer plating of his throat cables. “And… does numb count as a number?” Ratchet groaned and smacked his Captain on the knee.

“Why didn’t you get here sooner?” he snapped, then reached up to tap his comm. “First Aid, comm Ultra Magnus and Drift for me, see how they’re doing? Rodimus might have given them this stupid bug.” He shot the bot a withering look and then finished tapping the information onto the pad. When he got a ping of confirmation from First Aid he closed the comm and turned back to Rodimus.

The captain looked guiltily at his peds, then back up at Ratchet. “Am I… am I in trouble?” he asked, and Ratchet was struck by the realization that Rodimus was still practically a sparkling.

“Horrible trouble, so much trouble you might offline.” Ratchet made sure his voice was as dry as possible. “You’re bound to a berth, I’m turning off your comms _and_ memos, and the worst part is you have to swallow down a _ton_ of synth medicine until you get better.” Rodimus made a sour face, then coughed into his hand.

“But all those synth meds taste like the crud you find caked in your Tcog after a long drive.” Rodimus whined and fell back to the berth, rubbing his throat again.

“Oh boo fraggin’ hoo.” Ratchet smiled and offered him a quick dissolving cough drop for his throat. He stilled when he got a ping from First Aid, then groaned when Rodimus took the energon candy. “I’m going to beat you two within an inch of your life. You and Drift both have this slag.” He huffed and looked back at the door. “I’m dragging another berth in here, I can’t have you two whining at me from two separate rooms.”

Rodimus smiled, but it was weak. “We’ll suffer quietly.” He said with the hint of a promise.

“You’re a terrible liar.”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a suggestion fic where I take the ideas you leave me with and [ if I find them interesting enough ] work them into the story. Feel free to go as crazy or as silly as you like, but know I may not get to your idea. I will read all of them though, so fear not.

Ultra Magnus stood at the door to Drift and Rodiums’ recovery room with his arms crossed. Ratchet was listing off their symptoms and the lingering effects of the virus in their body, a serious scowl on his faceplates as the list grew. Beside him, Magnus’ eyebrow ridged drooped lower and lower.

“It’s not _that_ bad.” Rodimus squawked from the middle of the berth after popping his head out from beneath the tarp. He sounded like he had pneumonia.

“It’s that bad.” Ratchet muttered as he closed the data pad with a snap of finality.

“Get back in here.” Drift’s weak voice slurred from beneath the tarp the two of them had strung up over the bed. “I’m still cold.”

Rodimus ducked back down and Ultra Magnus sighed. The two of them had turned their recovery room into a giant sparkling sleepover, neither of them taking this seriously. They began to whisper and giggle suddenly, the tarp ruffling as they squirmed under it.

“And you’re sure we can’t separate them?” he attempted to ask in a whisper.

“No!” Twin hoarse voices tried shouting. Ratchet looked up at Magnus, face full of parental disappointment.

“Yeah, good luck trying _that_.” Ratchet looked into the room and rolled his optics. “They’re the only ones left affected, and you _know_ them. They’re the worst kind of bots when they’re sick, let alone separated. Would you rather them shouting for attention separately, or huddled together and whining to each other?” Ratchet raised an eyebrow ridge with a smirk before he turned away from the doorway.

“Won’t it take them longer to get better if they’re around the virus?” Magnus asked as he turned away from the recovery room and followed after Ratchet.

In front of him, the medical officer snorted. “Nah, it’s not contagious. The most it’ll do is keep them from seeking the other out and exerting themselves.” Ratchet stopped at a small desk and smiled as Ambulon fumbled with a tool. “Grip here, relax this.” He said softly before showing his aid what to do.

“Oh, thanks.” Ambulon muttered. “Hello Ultra Magnus Sir.” The medic gave a salute before gripping the tool and reworking it. Ratchet hummed as he watched him, then turned back toward the main hall.

“It was nice of you to check in, but you’ve honestly got the cleanest bill of health I’ve ever seen, and that’s almost terrifying in my career.” Ratchet said as he pushed open a curtain. A scream of pain from the other end made him smile. “Ah, the sound of my adoring public is calling.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them.

“That sounded like… Pipes?” Magnus asked, ready to run in.

“Huh, oh, yeah.” Ratchet chuckled. “He’s got a paintball stuck in his aft.” Ratchet stalked off before Magnus could ask.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a suggestion fic where I take the ideas you leave me with and [ if I find them interesting enough ] work them into the story. Feel free to go as crazy or as silly as you like, but know I may not get to your idea. I will read all of them though, so fear not.

“Are you sure ‘Camp Sick Party’ is a good name for the fort, it sounds sort of sad.” Drift mumbled as he draped himself over Rodimus’ back. His Amica chuckled and then let out a heavy wheeze, huffing and puffing through the tube Ratchet had given them for just that purpose as it hissed air into their throat. Drift whined gently and rubbed under Rodimus’ chest plates, digging his fingers into his swollen protoform until Rodimus put the tube down.

“Are you kidding, ‘Camp Sick Party’ is a great name.” Rodimus moaned and leaned back, his face nuzzling into Drift’s neck. “We, the soul occupants, will rule over it with great power.” Drift chuckled and kissed Rodimus’ forehelm when he turned.

Humming softly, Drift eased Rodimus against his chest so he wasn't in any discomfort. Drift knew he wasn’t as bad off as Rodimus was, but he was waiting for it to hit. They stayed close, relaxing into their little encampment in their recovery room, right up until Drift’s belly grumbled.

“I think I’m hungry.” He whispered as Rodimus burst into a fit of giggles.

“Me too. Come on, let’s go sneak out and get some food.” The Captain groaned as he tried to get to his feet. Drift huffed at him. He pulled his friend up to his knees and the two of them shook with the force of how sore their protoform’s were. Eventually they settled down, each groaning as their bodies protested.

“We should have listened to Ratchet and gotten up every other hour to stretch ourselves out.” Drift mumbled as Rodimus grabbed his hand. “We’re going to make ourselves worse moving around like this.” He whined.

Rodimus smiled and walked to the door, only when he opened it he squeaked in surprise.

Across the hallway, Tailgate was dragging a small tarp around with a cube of medical-grade in his hand. He stopped mid-step, startled by Rodimus and Drift’s sudden appearance.

“Uh…” Tailgate slowly brought the cube to his lips and took a sip, “hi?”

“Hey,” Rodimus tilted his head in confusion, “what are… you doing down here? It’s night cycle, why aren’t you…” he waved at Tailgate as if trying to convey some unspoken statement.

“With Cyclonus.” Drift finished.

Tailgate shrugged. “I had a really bad tummy ache.” He mumbled, almost half awake. “Cyclonus found me in the hall crying, it hurt too much to move.” Rodimus nodded as if he knew the feeling. “Ratchet said I had to stay overnight to make sure I didn’t bust anything, but all the good stuff to eat is down here.”

Drift made a sympathetic noise and leaned against Rodimus, a soft wheeze escaping his voice box. Tailgate perked up, looking both of them up and down with an interested sparkle to his visor.

“You two are sick,” he stated, “you shouldn’t be up right now.” He pulled his tarp closer and sipped at his energon again.

“We’re hungry.” Rodimus said, one hand rubbing his forehelm. “We were going to sneak out and get some food, but…” Drift whined again and his optics dimmed, helm resting gently on Rodimus’ shoulder. “I think we need to sit back down.”

Tailgate nodded, tossing the tarp over his shoulder. “Yes, go back to berth, _I’ll_ get you two some energon.” He seemed excited, if not worn out. Rodimus smiled as reached up to pet Drift’s helm and steer them back toward their shared berth.

“You sure?” but he as already walking. “We drink a lot of energon.” Tailgate just seemed to smile brighter.

“I’ll get help! You two get comfortable.” Drift hummed and flopped back to the berth when Rodimus lifted the tarp.


	4. Four

“Knock knock.” Tailgate gave a gentle tap to the outside of the door and peered into the recovery room of his Captain and Third in Command. The room had been set up as if there were a small tent inside, and the flap closest to the door opened as Rodimus’ hand pulled it aside. When Tailgate peered in he saw that both berths had been stripped and pushed to either sides of the room to act as tent posts, while the bedding had been sprawled across the floor.

Drift was spread out on stolen pillows and blankets, his head pillowed on Rodimus’ thighs as they stared at the obviously commandeered television set. The volume was off, but Drift was giggling none the less as he watched the screen.

“Hey Tailgate,” Rodimus said, his voice still hoarse, “did you have any trouble getting help?”

Tailgate chuckled and shook his head, reaching beyond the doorframe. “Nope, Pipes was awake when I went into the main room.” Pipes leaned over and waved, his other arm full of cubes.

“‘Gate said you guys were having a sick party, I didn’t realize he meant a ‘Hey we’re sick’ party.” There was humor in his voice even as Tailgate toddled into the room. “Would it be okay if we joined you? I’m kind of tired of how lonely the main room is.” He gave a half sparked shrug.

Rodimus smirked, one hand keeping the tarp tent open while the other continued to pet Drift’s forehelm.

“I don’t mind,” Drift muttered, optics finally prying away from the screen, “the more the merrier.”

Tailgate ducked down and was already crawling into the tent’s entrance, a bright joy lighting up his visor. Drift wiggled and lifted an arm, a welcoming smile on his optics as Tailgate settled there.

“What are we watching?” he asked with genuine curiosity. Pipes chuckled and dropped to his knees, crawling inside the tent to sit on the other side of Rodimus. He happily passed the energon cubes to Drift and Rodimus, producing a straw just in case for Drift.

“Honestly?” Rodimus said with a chuckle, “I’ve got no idea. Some Earth film Drift found in the archives, we’re dubbing it for a laugh.”

“Oh!” Tailgate flailed his hands and snuggled closer to Drift’s side. “I love dubbing, Swerve told me what it was, we play it with Rewind sometimes when everyone else has left for movie night.” Drift chuckled, straw between his lip plates as he watched the screen. “Who is who?”

Pipes chuckled and leaned back, shifting uncomfortable after a few seconds. Rodimus looked over and frowned while Drift and Tailgate exaggerated their voices.

“Hey, do you need extra pillows?” Rodimus whispered. Pipes turned his head guiltily, then nodded.

“Sorry, it just hurts.” He looked down and rubbed a thumb against his hip. Rodimus shrugged and grabbed a few of the pillows closer to the door flap.

“Try laying on your front or side, I’ve got experience with…” Rodimus waved a hand at his hips, then looked down at Drift, “hey, watch how fast you drink that.” His voice was a gentle scold, his focus no longer on Pipes as his fingers rubbed against Drift’s finials.

“Yes _carrier_.” Drift teased before he pulled the straw back into his mouth.


	5. Five

It was the last shift before Ambulon could crawl into his berth until morning, the last shift before First Aid took over for On Call duty. Ambulon was so tired already, and he’d just finished scrubbing the last of the surgical tools down. His hands were tired and his optics sore, but he had one last round to make and then he could finally be _done_.

He picked up his data pad and walked into the main room to take a headcount. He walked to the end of the rows and stopped. He took several steps back and looked back at his data pad.

Ambulon only had two patients to look after in the main room.

 _Neither_ of them were in their beds.

Ratchet was going to _kill_ him. Ratchet was going to _find_ him, _string_ him up, and _kill_ him. He’d have a less violent death if he jettisoned himself out of the air lock. Ambulon nearly dropped his data pad in his worry as he started tugging at his helm.

Of _all_ the bots he had to loose, how did _Tailgate_ and _Pipes_ slip away from him without his notice! They were the least likely to run off and disobey Ratchet’s rules of berthrest!

Well, Pipes was. Tailgate he wasn’t really surprised by, he probably crawled off the berth and climbed on top of Cyclonus and rode him all the way to-oh Primus that was a terrible set of words. Ambulon smacked his fore helm with the data pad and let out a deep sigh. He could be rational.

A delighted laugh from the back caught his attention and he raised one of his eyebrow ridges. He lowered the pad to his chest and walked into the back, right passed the ‘Extended stay’ sign. At the end of the hall Ambulon saw a light from beneath one of the doors.

He looked at his pad to check who was in the room. Captain Rodimus and Third in Command Drift? They should be asleep, the medicine Ratchet prescribed them should have knocked them out cold.

He heard another giggle and sighed again, he’d have to tell them to keep it down before he went looking for anyone else.

As he got to the door, he opened it to see that it had turned into a nest with drapery instead of a medibay recovery room. The sound of the door opened alerted someone inside the drapery and the flap at the front opened. Rodimus peered out and smiled up at Ambulon.

“Hey, did you come to join Camp Sick Party?” he asked, sounding sleepy.

“Ambulon!” Tailgate’s face popped out from underneath Rodimus’ arm. “If you come in can you stop and get ice cream first.”

“Tailgate you can’t have any ice cream.” Pipes’ voice called from further in the blankets.

“Yeah but _you_ guys can.” He interjected. “And it might help cool off Drift’s throat and make him feel better.” Rodimus laughed and snapped his fingers.

“That’s an excellent idea, Ambulon would you get us some ice cream? I would but Drift aches and he’s laying on me, Tailgate can’t carry the cartons, and we’re not letting Pipes get up.” Rodimus huffed and slipped back into the tent. “If you don’t want to that’s okay, but at least get me ice for Drift.”

Drift laughed and Tailgate looked back, giggling. Ambulon groaned and rubbed his temples.

“I’ll get you something only if you promise to lower your voices, I can hear you in the main room.” Ambulon said, pointing a finger at Tailgate. “And _you_ have to promise to fess up to Cyclonus that you broke your promise and got out of your berth.”

Tailgate’s face visibly drooped.

“I’ll vouch for you.” Pipes called.

“He’s going to be _so_ upset.” Tailgate muttered.

“Joy face is on screen!” Drift said in excitement, and suddenly Tailgate disappeared into the tent and giggled wildly. Ambulon groaned again and smacked himself in the face a few more times with his data pad. This was supposed to be the _easy_ shift.


	6. Six

First shift and First Aid was excited for the day. He had been on call for several hours already and had been able to nap through it without ever being called in. He walked into the medibay and saw the berths empty and stripped of their bedding when it was time for the mandatory medication rotation.

What had _happened_ last night?

He walked further in, thinking that maybe something had gone wrong in the night and that the patients had been moved to extended stay. Once he got to the end of the hall he heard whispers and a few muffled giggles.

Without even thinking, he opened the Captain’s recovery room door and saw the tent. He pulled the flap open and looked down to see Ambulon laying with his feet in the air, Pipes’ helm on his hip and Tailgate’s foot on his arm.

Ambulon looked up, almost shocked as he held a spoon to his mouth. Drift woke up from his sleeping spot sprawled across Rodimus and blinked blearily at First Aid. Tailgate, who was apparently already awake, covered his faceplate and giggled.

“Close the tent,” Ambulon whispered, “you’re letting all the light in.” First Aid stared at him and Tailgate giggled even harder. “ _Aid_ , the light.” First Aid rolled his optics behind his visor and dropped the tent flap.

“I’m not awake enough to deal with this.” He muttered before he walked out of the room. Let Ratchet deal with _that_ hot mess.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a suggestion fic where I take the ideas you leave me with and [ if I find them interesting enough ] work them into the story. Feel free to go as crazy or as silly as you like, but know I may not get to your idea. I will read all of them though, so fear not.

Ratchet’s first order of business when he walked into the medbay was to catch First Aid with his feet on the front desk sipping energon and demand to know where his patients were. First Aid had scrambled to wipe his spilled energon off his chassi as he pointed at the Captain’s Ward. With an unpleasant rumble of his engine, Ratchet slipped into the tent to very gently wake up Drift. A Drift who whined and reached up to grab at his obviously sore throat. His second order of business was to clap both his hands right beside Rodimus’ head as loudly as he could.

The Captain woke up with a grunt that turned into a fast groan and whimper. The noise woke Tailgate up and he yawned on the floor, stretching out so his arms were raised high above his helm. Beside him, Pipes made a confused noise and fumbled for a pillow to cover his face with.

Ambulon shot up from his spot where he’d slumped against the wall and fallen asleep, eyes wide and a look of terror on his face.

“Ratchet, oh Primus above I’m so sorry I-” Ratchet cut him off by holding up a hand and giving him a tired smile.

“Relax,” he said, “what you did _does_ go against protocol, but you were keeping an optic on every single patient that was currently under admittance. _That_ I’ll let slide. The ice cream carton though, _that_ we are going to have words about.” He looked down at the empty carton by Pipes hip and narrowed his optics at it.

“I didn’t have any.” Tailgate muttered quickly and very guiltily as he pushed himself to his feet. “What time is it?”

“Well passed midday,” Ratchet informed him, “Cyclonus is waiting for you outside the main room. I think he’s getting aggravated. Or he has a headache, I can never tell with him. He only makes the one face.”

Tailgate laughed and pushed his fingers together over his visor. “Are his eyebrow plates doing this?” He dipped the tip of his fingers down while leaving the rest of his fingers as straight as he could. Ratchet just stared at him in response. “Because if he’s doing that he has a headache, but if he was aggravated then his whole eyebrow ridges would go down like this.” He moved his fingers slowly toward his visor.

“How can you tell?” Rodimus asked, voice sounding scratchy.

“I live with him.” Tailgate said with a laugh before he stepped around Pipes to get to the door. “I’m going to go tell him I’m okay. I’ll see you guys later okay?” He started down the hall.

“Oh no, you’re leaving us here to a fate cruller than death.” Pipes said in a stage whisper. Ambulon covered his laughter with a cough and pushed himself to his own feet before he started picking up the trash that was strewn across the floor.

“You act like I don’t have my audials turned on.” Ratchet said before he took two steps to loom over Pipes. “Can you stand, or do I need to drag you? Because hey, I’m not above dragging you, but if you can get your aft out of a berth and walk all the way back here when I strictly told you to _stay_ berth ridden, then maybe I can take you off that pain supplement.” His arms crossed as Pipes whimpered.

“He’s teasing you.” Drift said hoarsely, trying for reassuring but just coming out sad and worried.

“Yeah, I won’t let him-” Rodimus’ sad attempt at a declaration was cut off by Ratchet’s indignant huff.

“Kid you might be Captain, but I’m your _doctor._ I will happily pull CMO rank on your aft.” Ratchet’s emergency lights glowed slightly before he knelt down and helped Pipes into a sitting position. “Honestly though, are you alright? Sleeping on the floor like that didn’t help any, I can see it from here.” With a slow kindness that was only reserved for Ratchet, he helped Pipes to his feet through his hissing and small whimpers.

“I was fine until I stood up, if that helps.” Pipes offered weakly. Rodimus crooned pathetically as he reached out for the other mecha’s hand. Pipes squeezed Rodimus’ fingers before letting go.

“Ratchet, don’t… don’t make him sit out there all by himself.” Rodimus said with a pout. He and Drift had finally sat up, leaning against the edge of one of their berths.

“It’s not good for his Aur-” Drift was cut off by a blip of a siren as Ratchet whipped around to glare at him.

“Don’t even slagging _finish_ that sentence.” He muttered before standing straight and hooking an arm around Pipes hips. “Right, Ambulon, get me a hover chair and a mushroom cushion after you throw that away. Then scrub in for the rest of your shift, I’ve got a waste tank replacement, a misplaced axel, and two pulled rotaries, and you’ve suddenly changed shifts with Lancet for surgery ward and recovery.” 

Pipes winced, and no one could really tell if it was in sympathy or pain.

“Yes Sir.” Ambulon scrambled out of sight with his one armful of trash. From the doorway, First Aid peeked in looking worried.

“You.” Ratchet pointed at Aid and his optic shutters narrowed. “Don’t think you’re off the hook either.” He took a step and let Pipes hobble against him. “Get these two off the floor and hook them up to their drips, then get their synth medications ready and make sure they take them. Both of them, make sure there’s no slight of hand either.” Ratchet sighed as the rattle of a bedpan echoed down the hall. Someone must have dropped something.

“But I was the one who was on watch-”

“Instead of handling it yourself you waited for me.” Ratchet said softly. “I’m going to retire eventually Aid, I can’t always solve every problem.”

Behind him, both Drift and Rodimus let out miserable whines.

“No.” Rodimus hiccupped.

“You can’t retire.” Drift whined.

“You’re like everyone’s really nice but really cranky Sire.” Rodimus said before a spark flicked out of his mouth.

“No more talking out of you or you’ll really fry your voice box. Aid, check that for me?” Ratchet nodded as he helped Pipes down the hall. “And Drift, don’t let Rodimus talk!”

Rodimus pouted and looked at Drift for sympathy, but Drift just shrugged and bit his lip.

“He’s got a… point.” He winced and swallowed, hand reaching up to rub at his throat. “I’m thirsty.”

First Aid sighed as he stepped into the tent. “Yeah, you should be. Come on, put your weight on me, I’ll lower the berth so you both can lay on it.” He bent down and wrapped his arms around Rodimus first. “You two are too much work, I swear.”


	8. Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a suggestion fic where I take the ideas you leave me with and [ if I find them interesting enough ] work them into the story. Feel free to go as crazy or as silly as you like, but know I may not get to your idea. I will read all of them though, so fear not.

First Aid had somehow, after an hour and a half of coaxing, gotten fluids and medication into both Drift and Rodimus. The two were now riding the after effects of synth lag, each curled up on one berth that was entirely too small. Rodimus had needed a coolant tube slid into his nose and into his stomach at one point when he could no longer swallow, and First Aid had needed to call Lancet in to help him when Rodimus started thrashing. Drift had been so utterly helpless at first, standing on the sidelines as Lancet used stasis cuffs to secure Rodimus to the berth.

“He’ll pull it out if we don’t cuff him, you know that.” Lancet had whispered. “Come on, I’ll put you in your own bed.”

“No, are you insane?” Drift’s voice was cracked and pleading. “He needs me right now, I’m staying with him.” So Lancet agreed and pushed the berths together, watching as Drift crawled in beside his Amica to rest.

The discomfort wasn’t anything First Aid could help with, other than reassuring them that recharging would make the tube come out faster, but watching that grown mecha cry… Hell, watching his _Prime_ cry?

Not the memory he wanted to keep on hand. First Aid saw mecha come in in all kinds of pain, but tears of frustration always got to him the most. Discomfort was something that dug at a mecha worse than any kind of injury.

Drift’s throat had been kliks away from needing his own tube, but seeing as one of them was already out of commission, First Aid had to try something possibly unorthodox. First Aid opted to squeeze an entire tube of defrost gel down Drift’s throat with strict instructions of ‘Don’t talk, don’t even think of talking, you talk and your throat might shatter. Your voice box will be gone forever and Ratchet will probably pay me not to replace it, don’t do the thing.’

Lancet had sympathetically given him an extra blanket and energon with a bendy straw.

Aid watched as Drift slumped and nodded, then curled against Rodimus’ side. The two were speaking hand, though Rodimus was fumbling quite a bit from pain and the restraints. They were both half dozing, their vitals calmer. Rodimus was still alert and very obviously uncomfortable, but First Aid left before his Captain tried to talk him into taking the tube out with his optics alone.

Things calmed down in the medbay after that, and everyone assumed the rest of the day would go smoothly.

That was when the science lab had exploded.

\--

Ratchet had finally scrubbed himself clean from closing of Trailcutter’s emergency lines, and now he was back in the main bay. Ambulon sat nearby with a welding torch and tray of quick patches, yawning and optics heavy as he fought to stay awake. Across the room, First Aid was helping Highbrow onto one of the berths and running a thermo meter over his chassi, a look of sympathy on his face for his missing kibble. Velocity was sitting on a berth next to Nautica as she slowly moved a pen light back and forth over her optics, trying to get her to focus on anything other than her new yellow paint scheme.

“If it helps any, I can say I’m sorry again.” Brainstorm muttered from the spot on his berth. He was missing his left arm and right foot, and one of his optics had melted clean out of his skull. His paint job was all but gone, and he looked like bits of him had been set on fire.

“It doesn’t help.” Perceptor muttered, his entire plating a jarring shade of puce as he sat on his own berth with his arms crossed. “I told you those things were volatile.”

“Yeah but then you walked away and didn’t label them, it was an honest mistake!” Brainstorm lifted one arm into the air. There was a terrible groan from the joints. Ambulon reached over and slowly lowered his arm.

“Let’s not do that.” He whispered. Brainstorm just muttered.

“Enough arguing in my medbay.” Ratchet snapped as he looked over to see Pipes, confused but relaxing on his berth with a cup of medical grade. Swerve was sitting next to him, gesturing wildly since he’d caught Pipes’ attention. His voice box had been knocked offline by the blast, and he was waiting patiently to have it turned back on while enjoying a fun game of pantomime.

Seeing that his staff had everything handled, Ratchet let out a long sigh before he turned toward the back hall. Before he got to Rodimus and Drift’s door, he heard Brainstorm yelp and he quickly hurried back into the main bay.

“Ambulon, have Lancet finish that, you need to go wash up and head to a berth of your own. You’re forgiven.” Ratchet said as he waved Lancet over. Ambulon blinked in confusion at first, then handed the torch to Lancet and walked away on shaky legs. He seemed to be floating, having pushed himself to make it up to Ratchet.

Poor kid.

Ratchet watched him go, saw him slip into the showers, then turned back to the hallway. Rodimus and Drift’s door opened silently, the lights dim but not off. Drift was passed out snoring atop Rodimus’ chest, a blanket covering both of them. Rodimus laid there, miserable and so utterly exhausted as he looked up at Ratchet and clenched the fists that wasn’t tucked into Drift’s hands. The tube in his nose was fogged, and it was pretty obvious that it had done its job.

Ratchet walked over and hushed any whining Rodimus might have started with a gentle touch to his helm. “It’s aright, I’m here kiddo. I’m going to get that out now, okay?” He watched the small nod, the tugging flinch, and was quick to grab a tube of lubricant to help with the removal.

The tube came out without any issue, and Rodimus shivered and trembled enough to wake Drift with his relief. The shaky little sobs that poured out of Rodimus were enough to make Ratchet’s spark clench in his chest as he fumbled to undo the restraints.

“Easy, Sire’s here. I’m right here little bit.” Ratchet whispered as he dumped the tube onto a cart and grabbed a rag. He ran it under the sink and wet the edges, then hurried to the side of the berth that Rodimus was curling up on. “I’m here.” Ratchet watched as Drift sat up and looked toward the hallway. He tapped his throat as Ratchet began wiping up Rodimus’ face.

“You can talk now, but keep it to a whisper.” Ratchet muttered, even as he focused his attention on Rodimus. Ratchet remembered the small bundle in his arms screaming from a fever, or how one of the first things Rodimus had learned to do was run right into his arms.

“I’m going to go to the wash racks, I’ll be right back.” Drift’s voice was calm as his lips pressed gently to Rodimus’ fingers. He slid off the berth in near silence, legs a little wobbly from disuse. Ratchet let him go, looking after Rodimus until he stopped crying and held onto his hand. He waited, EM Field stretched gently toward his offspring before he curled it around him. Rodimus basked in it, happily inviting the familiarity of his Sire’s comfort.

They stayed that way for a while, but eventually Drift came back and curled up on the berth again. Rodimus was quick to roll over, face buried against Drift’s armor as he let out a slow vent.

“Go back to sleep, the both of you.” Ratchet said as he set his rag aside and pulled the blanket over them both. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this turned around real quick. We go from funny nonsense to some reality real quick.  
> Having had a tube down my nose, I can agree that you do not sleep with that shit in there. You only live in agony, and once it's out there is no staying awake. My heart goes out to all the parents who have to sit with their children, no matter the age, and watch them suffer through that. It's hell, and you can't do anything about it but wait and be there for your kids.  
> Ratchet gets slapped in the face with the reminder that he's not just a doctor.


End file.
